The Line of Durin
by TW0
Summary: The beginning of the conitunation of the line of Durin. Erebor is thriving with wealth and Thrór rules with utter surity, his line ensured by his son and grandchildren.


_Khuzdul:_

_nadadith = "brother who is young" - little brother_  
_amad = mother_  
_namadith = "sister who is young" - little sister_  
_nathith = daughter_  
_-uh = possessive suffix for "my"_  
_abbad = I am here_  
_Mukhuh Mahal udnîn zu ra sanzigil umkhûh zu = May Mahal keep you and mithril find you (dwarven blessing)_

* * *

It was another beautiful morning in Erebor, but despite the sunshine that fell upon the soft hillside of the mountain Thorin found himself stuck inside even if Dwalin had asked him if he wanted to go and roam about the plains after their studies. He was waiting in front of his parent's bedchamber; anxiously picking at the sleeves of his tunic whilst inside the healers as well as his father and grandfather were fussing over his mother who was uttering a shout every once in a while making the young dwarf flinch. "Now now laddie, everything will be alright soon. It's always like this when the baby is finally ready for this world." Shifting in his seat the young prince looked up at his teacher's assistant who sat beside him.

"I know Balin. I just don't want her to be in pain anymore." Another shout, more drawn out this time and Thorin started again, looking at the shut door as if he would jump up from his seat in a moment and just barge in there, something he knew he had been told not to do but still…

Then suddenly there was another voice screaming in there, weaker but with a determined force behind it forcing out a high pitched wail that made all the hairs in Thorin's neck stand on end and in one movement he had stood up and crossed the two steps to the door, only just remembering himself and stopping just before dragging the door open. He looked back at Balin for reassurance and the older dwarf waited a few moments until he could hear the noise inside dying down a little as well as the for the screaming to stop until he nodded at his prince.

Instantly Thorin raised his little hand to knock before he simply wrestled the door open and pushing himself into the room. Balin remained sitting in his chair, a gentle smile twisting the corners of his mouth upwards. Inside the chamber it was stuffy and it smelled like blood and sweat, but Thorin barely noticed since he was busy making his way past the many healers in their odd lightly coloured robes that were still in the room, until he had made it over to the bed where his mother had sunken back into her pillows, her hair sticking to her sweaty face, but despite the exhaustion that was clearly edged into her beautiful face she looked content. Next to her his father was leaning over his wife with a small bundle in his arms. Thrór stood on the other side of the bed, looking pleased and smiling softly at his son and daughter-in-law but then his gaze caught his young grandson and briefly he furrowed his bushy brows beneath his heavy crown, giving Thorin a stern look.

"I… I wanted to see if everything is alright." The dwarfling mumbled out, feeling himself shrink under the glare of his grandfather, but luckily his father was there to save him. "Yes, my gem, everything is fine, come and look at your little brother." Thorin was a little hesitant to follow his father's request, but he could see his mother smile weakly and push herself up a little straighter and he decided that apparently he seemed to be allowed to join them. Carefully he climbed up beside her on the bed, mindful of her legs and once he had sat down next to her his father bend down and showed him the little bundle, pushing back the cloth from a tiny face that was blinking sluggishly back at Thorin with clear blue baby eyes. _"Nadadith."_ He murmured at the new-born and carefully brushed his fingertips over the smooth cheek of the baby, his own grey eyes widening in awe when his little brother pushed out his tiny fist from the folds of the cloth he was bundled in and firmly closed his little fingers around his big brother's finger. "Frerin, his name is Frerin, Thorin." His mother told him, her voice soft but full with happiness and love and Thorin nodded happily, smiling when little Frerin yawned and closed his clear eyes again to fall easily into a light sleep.

As adorable and endearing as the new addition to his family was Thorin found that the little one included a lot of work. He had to be fed and looked after, his clothes needed to be changed when he wet himself and as soon as Frerin learned to push himself forward on his stout little arms and legs Thorin found himself constantly running after him, locking all the doors to make sure that little Fre did not escape him, since his tiny brother seemed to be set on exploring their house on his own all the time. Sure his mother had a few maids who helped her fussing over her smallest son, but most of the time she told them to go away and leave her as she did not want to share the precious time with her two sons, which was not often, given Thorin's studies and her picking up her own artwork of braiding and twisting metal wire into necklaces and other jewellery again, when they were not requested to attend the court rooms to stand next to her husband and the king.

There was also a huge feast held, where Thrór showed his newest grandson to his subjects, though Balin let Thorin know that it was only half as big as when he himself had been presented as the first heir to Thrór's throne. Overwhelmed by all these people who were gushing over the new prince, the amount of food and the many gifts that were pushed into his parent's arms Thorin could barely believe his young teacher or his friend who was nodding at him whilst also trying to eat an entire honeycake in one bite. Still, as merry as the feast was, the young dwarf found that he was grateful when he as well as his brother and their mother retired to the quiet of their house, ending the celebration with a quiet evening of reading stories and looking at the images which the sun painted on their walls as it was shining its last rays through the gems that were embedded in the outer walls of their home.

With him being only ten years old Thorin did not have any duties like his mother or father, but he did his best to help looking after Frerin and even if he would never admit this to Dwalin when they were being trained together the young prince found that he enjoyed it a lot. Especially when he was left alone with his little brother as soon as Frerin was a few months old and able to sit up by himself. It was very rewarding to hand the few toys that Thorin liked to his brother, showing him what a dwarf soldier looked like and the little wooden figures of cattle and trees he owned and when he build a tower with the simple squares he had played with himself when he had been younger Frerin gave the most heart-warming little giggle when he pushed them over, sending the blocks flying so that his brother had to stand up and collect them again. Not minding the exercise in the slightest, Thorin found himself building tower after tower only to let Frerin push them over again and again since it was so amazing to see the little dwarrow smile and giggle at their game.

The years seemed to pass quickly with this new companion on his side and ere Thorin knew how it had happened, Frerin spoke his first few words ("Ama" and "Thoorn") and then one day simply stood up from where had just toppled over another tower his brother had built for him and waddled about their shared room to help Thorin collect the blocks for another tower. Despite being more than twice his brother's age Thorin did not once find himself annoyed by the little dwarf, rather he enjoyed showing him what he was learning about and was sometimes even allowed to take Frerin with him when going for short trips through Erebor, though his mother insisted on Balin accompanying them whenever they did that. It was a carefree time and small as he was Thorin thought that it would stay like this forever.

But apparently Mahal had decided that their family was not yet complete, since only a few days after Frerin's 4th birthday Thorin noticed his parents talking lowly to each other, with his mother gesturing towards him and his brother as well as her stomach a few times, whilst he and Frerin sat in front of their fireplace, Thorin showing his brother a book, where the tales of Durin the Deathless had been written down long ago and illustrated with simple images.

Wondering about the secrecy of his parents Thorin frowned briefly but quickly replaced his furrowed brows with a smile for his brother when Frerin tugged at one of the braids in his brother's hair to get his attention back and ask him to read one of the stories to him. After that evening Thorin paid a little more attention to his mother, how he could soon see her stomach swell again, like it had when she had carried Frerin in her. But somehow this time it seemed to be different.

She was not sewing more clothes for her new baby or doing any of the things he had seen her do when Frerin had only been a little bump under her dress and often Thorin found her sitting down or even staying in her bed for the whole day and it worried him. Willingly he put up with Frerin whenever the dwarfling was calling for something to eat and found that his mother was too exhausted to even sit up or call for a maid so Thorin took his brother and showed him Erebor, showed him where the kitchen was and especially where Balin's house was, since he was there a lot having picked up his Khuzdul studies a lot earlier than other young dwarves due to his status (and of course sometimes to visit Dwalin) so that should anything ever trouble his little brother he would be able to find him. Still Thorin found that he dared less and less to leave Frerin out of his eyes in the company of his mother, as she seemed to get weaker and weaker, remaining in bed for weeks at a time and her usually round and always smiling cheeks turned pale. Not trusting the maids with his little brother's wellbeing even if they seemed to give their best Thorin even requested Balin to move their studies to his house so that he would only have to leave for his combat practice with Dwalin and even then he found himself eager to end his training, not staying behind to do a few extra rows like he used to but instead hurrying home.

His family grew quiet, with his father neglecting his duties in court every so often to sit beside his wife or look over his youngest son, but more often than not Thorin found his father so distracted by his thoughts, his heavy eyes glued to the door behind which his mother was lying and Frerin playing on the floor, obviously forgotten by his father that the young dwarf found himself only more worried than if his father had been absent.

The day his next sibling was born was not a pretty day. It was pitch black outside, his mother having gone into labour late in the night and Thorin did his best to comfort his brother who was scared by the screams and shouts he heard coming from his mother and the healers alike. Desperate the little dwarfling clung to his big brother who was carrying him around their house, trying to distract him with books and toys alike, but nothing would work since Thorin's mind was with his mother as well, worried for her wellbeing and not at all calmed by the serious faces he saw whenever a maid or a healer was leaving the room to get some herbs or cloth or water.

"What is happening?!" the prince demanded to know of Balin who was just stepping in, Dwalin behind him looking grim and had Thorin had any time he would have asked his friend to stay away, because it seemed like the situation here was quite busy but then he remembered that Fundin was one of the leading healers so no doubt that his sons had heard about what was happening in the chambers of the king's son. "We don't know, laddie, but I'm sure your mother will be alright." Balin tried to sooth him and offered to take Frerin from Thorin's arms, but he refused, instead clutching his little brother tighter to his chest, who in turn gripped Thorin's braids with both hands.

"Am'll be a'right?" Frerin whispered into his brother's ear, burying his nose in the dark mass of hair and rested his head on Thorin's shoulder. "Yes. She will be fine, just like our little brother, don't worry." Thorin did not know if it was minutes, hours or days later when finally a whine made it through the door, just like when Frerin had first seen the light of this world, but it was instantly followed by frantic cries that overpowered the brief relief that had washed over the young dwarf. Horrified Thorin held onto his brother and kept Frerin's head pressed into his shoulder as he made for the door, not even bothering to knock, he just stormed right in to see his father as well as Fundin stand next to his mother's bed, both of them shaking her, a maid standing off to the side throwing them worried glances as she swayed from side to side, holding a little bundle of bloodied cloth in her arms. "What is wrong?!" Thorin cried over the voices of his father and the healers calling for his mother, feeling terribly helpless and overwhelmed by everything that was happening. "_Amad_! Mother wake up!" Still his mother did not stir, even when Frerin started to cry for her as well and Thorin was angry now, she could not be tired, when all of her children were calling for her, just this once she should try to at least open her eyes and smile at them, just say anything and he would tell Frerin that it was alright and he could also look after his other sibling and be a good boy for her and help her until she was well again, but he was grabbed before he could shout again.

"Shh my boy it's alright. Balin, get them out of here." It was his grandfather who was carrying him and Frerin back to the door and put them down again so that Balin could lead them away. "NO! I want to see my mother and my new brother and I want… I want- Balin I just want them to be well." The stress proved to be too much and Thorin did not care at all that Dwalin was in the room as well, if the other was truly his friend he would understand why there were tears in his eyes and why he was now clutching Balin's robes as if he would be ripped away soon as well.

"Aaaam! Mee toooo!" Frerin wailed, almost suffocating his brother as he threw his little arms around Thorin's neck, holding on as tightly as he could, sobbing into his brother's dark hair and wetting his fine tunic with his tears but neither of them cared. For a few terrible seconds Balin seemed to be made of stone, his eyes fixed on his king, who was only giving him a heavy glance and a grave shake of his head before returning into the chambers, shutting the door firmly behind him, but then the son of Fundin managed to shake the shock from his head and carefully he lead Thorin over to the chairs that stood like a makeshift maze all around the house, wherever someone had dragged them earlier when the healers had been taking turns in looking after Thráin's wife.

"It's alright, laddie." But Balin's voice gave away that nothing was alright and it only made Thorin cry more, which in turn upset his little brother and it was a long time until there were no more tears left that could be spilled, which left Thorin with a dry hiccupping that was almost worse that the sobs.

The sun was already rising and soft light was falling in through the tiny window-holes that were covered with colourful gems, throwing little dots of colour on the walls but Thorin could not bring himself to see the beauty of the moment, no matter how nice it looked. There would be other mornings like this. The sun would rise again tomorrow and the spots would be here again and again and again, but Thorin doubted that he would ever be able to see their beauty again.

His mind was still too young to fully comprehend what exactly had happened in that chamber, but he knew that something had changed forever and his heart knew that it had been something horrible, just how horrible he had yet to find out. It was not until the entire wall opposite of their little windows was covered with dots of diverse colours, green and yellow and blue and red, that his father emerged from the chamber. Wary and tired Thorin could not even stand up, since Frerin had only just fallen asleep in his arms, exhausted from all the crying so he only looked up with swollen eyes when Thráin stepped towards his two sons.

"Say hello to your sister." He said, his voice barely audible, rough from shouting and screaming and his eyes just as swollen and red from crying as Thorin's. It took a little while until Thorin could tear his own eyes away from his father's grief filled face to look at the little bundle in Thráin's arms, which was now bundled in clean linen. Gently Thorin pried one hand off of his brother's back to draw back some of the folds and look into the sleeping face of the baby. She was beautiful, her hair as dark as his own, with rosy cheeks and long lashes and Thorin was certain that her eyes would be just as blue as his brothers'. "…Hello _namadith_." The young dwarf rasped out, stroking his fingers briefly through the soft hair atop her head before he looked back up at his father. "_Amad_…?" he asked hesitantly, not sure if he really wanted an answer. The look his father gave him in return was enough answer for him and enough to almost make the tears come back. Breathing heavily through his nose Thorin buried his face in the thick and messy hair of his brother.

For a few moments it was quiet, eerily so since no one seemed to dare and say anything, lest it disturbed the tense silence they had reached. Even the healers which were slowly leaving did so with hanging heads and without any words, or even glances to where the prince was sitting with his two sons and his new-born daughter on abandoned chairs in the middle of their entrance room.

It was only until after the last of the healers – Fundin – left, taking both his sons with him. Balin and Dwalin both gave Thorin a worried glance, but he did not even look up, his face still hidden in his brother's brown locks.

It was Thrór who made them all look up when he joined them, dragging a chair over to sit between his son and grandsons. "Lemme take a look at this fine girl, willya?" he asked quietly, putting one hand on Thráin's shoulder and peeking down on the bundle that was his granddaughter.

"Lovely jewel." He commented and smiled sadly at the dwarrow which was fidgeting now, slowly blinking her big eyes open. Thorin nudged his brother who was rubbing at his own eyes and leaned a little closer to their father so that they all would be able to see how she opened her eyes for the first time this morning. When she finally did Thorin was surprised to see their colour being a rich golden brown when his sister blinked up at all of them and gave a startled blubbering.

"Shhh… Shhh _nathith-uh._ _Abbad,_ my jewel. _Abbad_." Thráin gently calmed his daughter, rocking her slowly. "What do you call her?" the king asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Dís." Came the reply after a moment of pause, where Frerin had squirmed in his brother's lap and was now twisting around to see the little thing that was his sister, forgetting about the terrible things that had happened last night for a few precious seconds and Thorin wished he could do so as easily as his brother as well. "She… she always liked that name… always said…" Thráin broke off, not ending his sentence and instead turning his face away from his children and father. Calming Thrór put both his hands on his son's shoulder; his face grimaced in sympathy for the pain he knew all too well. "_Mukhuh Mahal udnîn zu ra sanzigil umkhûh zu_, Dís, daughter of Thráin, heir of Durin."


End file.
